Robbin Season Lyrics
Y’all know I gotta get it
Ahem
Choppers, be quiet
Gun, four-five
Buddah blessed this beat
They say
Nines, TECs(Uh-huh)
AKs, Dracos(Uh-huh)
Machine guns, switches(Uh-huh)
Glock four-five
Yeah
Black Air 1s what I got on(What I got on)
I’ll rob a n**** down with his ice on(With his ice on)
I’ll slime a n**** out, put the tax on(I’ll tax him)
I’ll bust all in her mouth, she got a big tongue(Ugh)
They say it’s robbing season for the real killers(Uh-huh)
The real hitters(Uh-huh)
Them young n*****
Big pistol, it kill n*****(Uh-huh, uh-huh)
I don’t got time for no freak bitch
(Not no freak bitch)
But I’m— aye, aye(Uh, 21, 21, 21!)
H Dawg, bitch, I like to walk shit(Like to walk shit)
I got this trey-five-seven, he like to talk shit(Baow, baow)
If Eddie Kane was out here, you better hide, bitch(H Dawg, n****)
It ain’t no in-between shit, so free the guys, bitch(Aye, free my dog, n****)
First gun that I tote, it was a thirty round(What it was?)
First rhyme that I wrote, I made a hundred thou'(What it was?)
Big Nuke had the coke until we robbed him down
A lot of opps had jokes until we put ’em down(Pussy, pussy)
See, it was this young n****, right?
I fucked with this young n****
But my bro was telling me the whole time
The n**** was havin’ some pussy shit in his blood
Dumbass n****
N**** wanna beef ’bout a bitch, I don’t do(What?)
N***** get on songs, make diss, I’m gon’ shoot(What?)
This n**** be pouting like a trick(Damn)
How you gangster, but got feds in your mix?(Damn)
I don’t want smoke with no snitch n****(Not no snitch n****)
You don’t bang 4L, you ride dick, n****(You ride dick, n****)
You put money on my head, well, send a blitz, n****(Well, send a blitz, n****)
Triple crosses, send ’em out ’cause I’m rich, n****(‘Cause I’m rich, n****)
I got Tommy guns, n****(Tommy guns)
Ah, ah, that n**** used to be my son, n****(Used to be my children)
Why lie? Punch him down, make him run, n****(Punch his ass out)
He don’t even care about it
Old bitch-ass, old ho-ass n****